Quarter Service Crisis

As promised in my last post, I was going to share what happened at the “end of Ramadan celebration,” here known as Korite, but also known as Eid-al-Fitr (thank you Wikipedia). You know the saying, “I don’t want to get your hopes up”? That’s probably the best way I could describe my Korite experience. Not that it wasn’t fun or there weren’t bowls and bowls of delicious food, it’s just that everyone was hyping it up so much, I was preparing myself for a socially exhausting day. In the end though, I’m glad it wasn’t as exhausting as I had anticipated because I was still beat by the end of the day. The most exciting part of the day was definitely lunchtime. People from about seven or eight family compounds all gathered at my compound for lunch since our compound is relatively large (and who says size doesn’t matter?). Now keep in mind that each family compound can have up to 20 plus people living in them so with seven or eight compounds gathered that meant a whole lot of people and that much more food. The men and women separated to eat, as is usually done. I joined the men inside the hut of the eldest man in my compound, as the boys patiently waited outside for the men to decide what bowls of food they wanted to keep for themselves and which ones they were willing to give to the younger boys. There were probably 30 men and 10 huge bowls of food, and once the “OK” was given everyone went to town! I think I had one of the best tactics of sitting in the center of the room, that way when I was tired of one dish I could simply swivel around and start in a new bowl. When lunch was over I sat around with all the men not really knowing what was coming, but no one else was getting up either so I stayed put not wanting to be rude. Next thing I know they started praying and beautiful Arabic prayers were being spoken all around me. I was of course caught way off guard by this still holding my spoon from lunch in my right hand, when one of the men signaled to me that his palms were facing upwards. I followed his lead letting go of the spoon and continued to look towards the ground in silence trying not to attract any more attention my way. The prayer lasted for about 10 minutes, which is a long time when you don’t really know what’s going on while at the same time you’re trying the best to blend in. 

My host sister and I in front of the bowl of fruits and veggies.

Later that day I put on my traditional Senegalese complet and went down to the “photo studio” with my sister and her friends. They were dressed up in their new complets with their fresh weaves and questionable make-up choices. For a second it felt like we were going out for a night on the town, but then I remembered I was in a Muslim village in the middle of Senegal and the chances that we were about to go to my village’s hottest night club were slim to none. The photo studio was a single room with many posters lining the walls acting as various backdrops. My favorites were definitely the picture of the bowl of fruits and vegetables and a garden scene that looked to be set in Asia somewhere. I felt privileged as we got to do both group shots and solo shots while a handful of kids crammed around a small window to watch us. The end of Korite was celebrated by a patron dinner of rabbit, which I would have enjoyed more if their little bunny heads weren’t staring at me throughout the meal.

The kids huddled around the window watching us get our pictures taken.

A few days after Korite six fellow volunteers in my region and I took a not so enjoyable 11 hour “sept place” ride up to the Thies Training Center for our In-Service Training. I’ll have to save my transport stories for another post, but as for this particular trip I was just happy to be in a car full of my friends. For the most part training went well and gave us many ideas of different projects we can potentially start doing. It’s definitely an overwhelming feeling because some of these projects seem so much bigger than what I’m capable of. Right now though we are on the brink of starting a standardized baseline survey in which we will be using standard indicators allowing us to collect useful, and in the long run measurable data. The cool thing is that my training group is the first to be doing this in Peace Corps Senegal. The bad thing is that we are sort of the guinea pigs and still have to wait a few weeks until the surveys are approved by Peace Corps Washington and ready for us to use. Until then I am simply in village trying to decide how I can make myself look busy to try and convince the people in my village that I’m not this lazy American just hanging out, which might have some truth to it. I am constantly looking for ways to build up my credibility whether it be carrying a baignoire of water on my head everyday or learning a witty phrase in my local language. I’m at a strange point in my service where it’s already been six months! But at the same time, it’s only been six months, so in the next year and a half how am I going to make it count? And in this setting, with my available resources, what is “making it count” really mean? As this daily inner dialogue ensues, rest assured family and friends back home that I’m not stressing too much over this, but instead taking it day by day.